Glow
by Melfice
Summary: Modern AU.  It's a Tuesday in February, two weeks after Valentine's Day, when they meet.  It's right around the time that Leonardo promises himself that he'll never fall for another man, ever.  Ezio/Leonardo.
1. Glow

**Summary:** Modern AU. It's a Tuesday in February, two weeks after Valentine's Day, when they meet. It's right around the time that Leonardo promises himself that he'll never fall for another man, ever.

**Glow**

It's a Tuesday in February, two weeks after Valentine's Day, when they meet. It's right around the time that Leonardo promises himself that he'll never fall for another man, ever.

In all honesty the list of things wrong with Leonardo's life up to this point could probably be summed up in a small novel and would make an excellent Lifetime movie, but his major issue is that he is an artist and, by proxy, broke all of the time. His masters in art theory will look amazing on the mantlepiece someday and it certainly opens up a plethora of teaching jobs that he's looking forward to, but right now everything in his life is speculation and anticipation and 'I hope so's' and he has _jack shit_ at the moment.

The lack of money in his life is a problem, but it is the cause of a larger problem, namely one Adam Wall.

When Leonardo moved to New York to get his masters he had brought very little with him – had owned very little to start – but had somehow found plenty of space to pack along his awful taste in men that has been following him around since high school. Because, honestly, Adam is a parasite.

It is the super sweet Edith, who lives down the hall and sometimes bakes delicious bread that she shares with him because they both live alone and food is their number one visitor, who introduced them nearly a year ago. She had listened to his plight about needing a male model for his class, about how he could not afford to spend money on one, and she had offered up an easy solution: her son had a friend, in the same art school, who did modeling and who would help him out for free as a favor to Edith.

The friend turned out to be Adam, who turned out to be exceptionally talented at what he did. Leonardo has used his own fair share of free models over the years, has used plenty of his friends for modeling projects, but Adam had been attractive and more than happy to hold position for hours at a time and, really, it is likely thanks to him that Leonardo passed that class.

Adam had also been naked, in his apartment, for a long period of time. Attractive and naked and _really _interested. Which, okay, Leonardo does know better than to get involved with his work, but it isn't as though he has ever had men lining up outside his door or anything and he's maybe dated _five_ people in his life and he had been very, very lonely. Adam was charming, available, and already in the same social circles – it had seemed like a good match at the time.

He lived in the neighborhood and had no issues coming over to Leonardo's place at all hours of the day to laze about or watch obscure movies or humor Leonardo's newest design. Adam had also been an _ass_, because that is the sort of people Leonardo is inevitably drawn to. Mostly because assholes are in abundance and Leonardo's self esteem could probably be better.

They had dated on and off again for the longest six months of Leonardo's life and it had all ended via medium of text message two months prior, a mere two days before the showing of _Hamlet_ that Leonardo had bought them tickets to see.

It was one of those things where it was probably the most trying week of Leonardo's life – first, being broken up with little more than a hastily typed 'sry theres sum1 else'; second, reevaluating all of his time lost to a guy who was, truly, not worth it at all; and, three, the subsequent derailing of mutual friendships and hang out spots that happens with all break ups.

"If I break his nose," his friend, Rosa, had told him over coffee a week ago, "he won't bother you again."

Rosa may have possibly been raised by wolves and she has all the social graces of a badger, but her heart is really in the right place. Leonardo doesn't have a plethora of friends looking out for him, or even interested in his drama, but, whether she was interested or not, Rosa always does seem to care in her own special kind of way.

Still though, violence is never the answer and fighting leaves such an awful taste in Leonardo's mouth. It would have never set right with him to know that his friend and his ex had gotten into a fight because of him.

"It wouldn't be a fight," Rosa had assured him. "It would be me breaking a spineless coward."

Either way, Leonardo wanted no part of it.

New York is a giant place though and, even if they do live in the same general neighborhood, Leonardo pacifies himself with the thought that it's very unlikely they'll just run into each other.

So, of course, it sort of feels like he's betrayed himself when he turns around from grabbing his soy chai latte, sketch book still tucked under his arm, and he spies his ex walk in the door of the cafe.

And Adam is a tool and a jerk and Leonardo truly does despise him for putting him through an emotional ringer and hanging him out to dry, but Adam is also hot and apparently six months without seeing him hasn't made him suddenly aggressively hideous.

There are a couple of really great options he has as far as courses of action are concerned. The first would be to hope that something really random and rare might happen – like, say, a meteor falling on the cafe and destroying them all. There's also a small chance that the whole place might just randomly catch on fire and they'll all be too worried about not burning alive that no one will even notice him fleeing for the safety of his studio.

The most likely option is to just wait it out, hope that Adam doesn't notice him, and then sneak out when he's absorbed in the giant menu of hot and cold drinks spread out on the far wall. In fact, he's probably staring at it at that exact moment, trying to figure out whether he wants to order his normal extra hot Americano (and Leonardo hates himself for remembering that) or not.

He looks over his shoulder, as quick as he possibly can, just to see if he's still there, but of course he is. Of course he spots Leonardo the moment he looks back. Of course. Life: 1, Leonardo: 0.

Leonardo is certainly capable of moving on. Which, really, he's been doing quite fine the past six months. Despite the random text message he'd received at two in the morning three days ago asking if he was still single and if he wanted to 'score 2nite.'

Honestly, Leonardo is not _fucking stupid_. He doesn't go crawling back to douchebags who dump him via text message like they're teenagers or something. He _definitely_ doesn't go back to douchebags who don't want a real relationship with him but would still like a convenient bed-warmer on speed dial.

Leonardo refuses to be convenient.

"Leo? Leonardo?"

Leonardo tells himself a hundred times to ignore him, not to turn back around, but he can hear his mother in his head reminding him of his manners, so he turns around and flashes a bright smile. Well, sort of bright, and sort of lopsided.

"Adam!" he clasps his hands together in front of his chest, as though he is completely surprised. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in forever!"

The problem is that it's a lot easier to ignore someone when they're a badly misspelled text message on a cell phone, miles away, rather than a fairly attractive man standing far too close in his personal space. Because when Adam is around and he's smiling like he's completely innocent, when he's actually thought about what to wear instead of just throwing on whatever is clean and he remembered to shave, he reminds Leonardo of the good parts instead of the bad.

Which is why it had been difficult to get over him in the first place. Which is why they'd gotten back together several times instead of Leonardo putting his foot down after the first.

And, okay, Leonardo _had_ missed someone looking at him like he was something worth wanting. It's hard to remind himself that he'd found out long ago that all the smiles and the promises and the "good" times were all fake – that they hadn't really meant anything to Adam after all.

There's small talk and there's scarcely hidden flirting on Adam's part and all Leonardo wants is to drink his soy chai latte and finish his sketches.

It's all thin promises and words Leonardo has heard long, long before and it's not difficult to keep saying no. It is, however, incredibly difficult to get Adam to _listen_. Which, really, was one of the problems they'd had in the beginning.

So it starts with Leonardo running into his ex in his favorite coffee shop, but it ends with Leonardo meeting his proverbial prince charming on a white steed.

Because there is suddenly an arm slipping confidently around his shoulders, a warm body comfortably close to his own, and someone is pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He stares blankly ahead, at the sudden change in expressions on Adam's face.

"Mio amore!" the man exclaims, and if Leonardo's heart jumps around a little in his chest it could just be because he hasn't had lunch and he's hungry, but it's also probably has to do with the thick Italian accent and the devastatingly handsome man it's attached to. Who, incidentally, is quite attached to Leonardo. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"

Leonardo tries very hard not to stare, both out of manners and out of a desire to not seem as shallow as he currently feels, but the man clinging to him affectionately _is really hot_. "I-I'm sorry?"

The man flashes him a brilliant smile and then turns his head slowly, as though noticing Adam for the first time, and his smile falters, "Oh, is this a friend of yours, tesoro?"

Which, no. He's absolutely not. But Leonardo's mother is forever a vision in his head, smacking him with her wooden spoon and reminding him that _he wasn't raised by wolves_, so he forces another smile that is only half nervous and says, "Oh, yes, yes. This is Adam. Adam, I, uhh..."

"Ezio," the man offers, but doesn't extend a hand. "It is a pleasure, Adam. Will you join us for a coffee?"

"I was just leaving actually," Adam says then, perhaps a little too quickly. He looks a little confused, if not a little annoyed, but Ezio's attention is already back on Leonardo.

The heat radiating from Leonardo's face is probably sufficient enough to warm the room without resorting to central heating, and he's not even entirely sure what's happening in the world around him. It's actually incredibly difficult to focus on miniscule things like _atmosphere_ when his handsome savior is staring at him like there's no one else in the room.

Leonardo does have a type. They're artists too – thin, malnourished, broke. They're sometimes students, but they're generally always assholes (not because they're artists, but because Leonardo attracts them like picnics attract ants) and they're always the worst thing for him.

So it's a little strange because this man – and he is definitely a man, not malnourished or tiny or resembling Adam in any way, although he could _absolutely_ model for Leonardo anytime he wanted – doesn't fit into his 'type' at all. Leonardo doesn't even think he's ever dated an Italian, even when he spent two years in Venice with extended family, and now he's at a loss as to why.

"I do apologize," Ezio says, in a way that suggests he isn't at all, his voice low as he leans in closer, "but you did appear to need some assistance."

"Oh," Leonardo manages. "Please. Assist away."

The bright smile he's rewarded with may or may not be directly related to the weakness he suddenly feels in his knees.


	2. Kindle

**Kindle**

There are piles and piles of fabric to be pushed and pulled over waiting actresses and actors, to be pinned and sewn and appropriated around bodies that aren't _quite_ as bendable as he thinks they are, and these costumes truly _will not make themselves_ – but Leonardo absolutely cannot focus on anything other than the carefully penned phone number in dark ink on the bottom of his palm. The butterflies are mostly gone, with the exception of the few strays in his stomach that bounce around in jubilation every time he glances at the numbers.

When they had parted ways in the middle of a crowded cafe, Ezio had taken his hand – fingers rough against Leonardo's palm, followed by the slow glide of ink moving across his skin – and, "_I will be late to class if I do not leave now, but... I would love to know you better, Leo."_

Leonardo's face had been embarrassingly aflame and his mind hadn't been working correctly, otherwise he might have thought to obtain further identifying information about the handsome face attached to the number and name on his hand. Because all he has is that face in his mind's eye, a first name, and an encounter that might as well have taken place in his own romance-deprived brain.

Which is okay, really. Plenty of solid relationships have been built on lesser foundations – just look at Romeo and Juliet. Although they did die. Maybe Leonardo hasn't thought this whole thing out as well as he should.

Things only progress further downhill when the eclectic, unpredictable parts of his life that he often times refers to as his 'friends' suddenly become involved. Because the production of Much Ado About Nothing they're working on for their Theater 510 final is almost entirely populated by either friends or acquaintances of his and it's difficult to avoid their intrusions for long.

It starts when Ugo finally notices Leonardo staring wistfully at his palm, like it holds all the answers of the universe, instead of, say, finishing (or starting, really) any of the many costumes that are still laying on the workbench. He peers over enough to see the mess of scribbles and there's this long pause, wherein Ugo's face distorts enough to cause concern and he honestly looks as though he may be about to pull a muscle in his eyebrow.

"Ezio? Ezio Auditore?" Ugo asks, incredulous. There are a mess of wires around him that he's completely forgotten about for the moment, half of them entangled in his feet and the other half laying limp in his right hand. "You must be joking."

"You know him?" Leonardo looks up from the papers he's been pretending to mull over, but doesn't feel comforted by the news. "Are you friends? What is he like?"

Ugo's look of incredulity does not fade in the slightest. _"Friends?_ That rich and spoiled _cretin_? I would rather be friends with a dead and rotting _goat_, Leonardo."

"Don't hold back, Ugo, tell him how you really feel," Rosa mumbles, once she's gotten through the back door with the load of boxes she's wrangled up the two flights of stairs. "I don't need help, by the way, you selfish asshole."

There is a brief moment wherein Ugo stares hard at Leonardo, as though he is weighing his options, and then he gestures at Rosa and shakes his head. "They dated – you should ask her."

Rosa's left eye twitches slightly, which should be the first warning sign not to ask her. "I dated who?"

Although, really, asking Rosa should be the _first_ step. Rosa knows everyone, somehow, and is a veritable wealth of gossip-esque information on all of them, and it makes total and complete sense to pry it out of her. She's always been a close friend and she doesn't hold back on her opinions, so why not?

However, the twitch that further develops on her face when Ugo turns and spits, "Ezio Auditore," is more than a little unsettling.

"Ezio? What about him? Why are we bringing him up _again_? _Leonardo what have you done?_" she crosses the room and stops in front of them, face contorted somewhat admirably in a mix of emotions that could all be described as 'not pleased.'

Ugo, ever the helpful friend, pulls Leonardo's wrist over the few inches it needs before it is right under her nose, the numbers that are probably familiar glaring up at her from his palm. There is a very interesting moment where the twitch becomes slightly worse, before quitting altogether and begins leading towards what Leonardo can only describe as an explosion; it is, typically, how Rosa's emotions evolve.

"That _bastard_ is undeserving to even _look_ at you, Leonardo!" she seethes, and if Rosa has ever acquired an 'indoor voice' then Leonardo has never heard it – because now everyone is sort of trying discreetly _not_ to look at them. "That Auditore rat barely deserves _street whores_."

"He seemed very..." _Charming, handsome, built-_ "He seemed very nice when we met."

Rosa's eyes narrow and she waves her hands at him like she can hardly form words "Are you stupid, Da Vinci?"

Caterina, who is some few feet away winding a measuring tape around Cristina's tiny waist, takes a moment to take the sewing pins out of her mouth to retort back, "She's still torn up about the breakup, Leonardo. Don't let her bias taint your image."

There is no visible lightning in the air, but something does seem to crack and fizzle when Rosa spins on her heel to glare daggers at the other girl. "Excuse me? Do I need to rearrange your face, you _whore_?"

Caterina rolls her eyes, like she can't be bothered, and pins another layer of fabric in place. "How sad. Little Rosa falls in love only to find that the man she is 'dating' had no idea they were in a relationship."

Ugo manages to grab at least most of Rosa's left arm, before she's taken more than a step forward. "Rosa, you can't kill our _only_ seamstress."

Leonardo watches the exchange and sighs, mostly to himself, looking back up only when he notices Caterina giving him a comforting smile.

"Leonardo, Ezio is... Whatever bad you hear of him, know that he is worth it," she says, and her smile turns knowing. "He is _very_ worth it."

There is a long period of time where things sort of dissipate and go back to normal. Rosa is still steaming at the ears, but she's managed to channel it into yelling at the actors instead – so, as long as she's productive there's not a whole lot they can say about it. The piles of fabric in front of Leonardo don't make much sense in his confused mind, but he works through them, separating and tossing, for a good hour and a half before the subject of his Knight in Shining Armor rears its head again.

Caterina has packed up her sewing kit and called it a day, leaving Leonardo to finish up the costumes she's made adjustments for, and he's just started on one when Cristina finds her way back over and sits down at the table with him.

"About Ezio... Don't listen to Caterina," Cristina tells him, and Leonardo doesn't have to ask what she's referring to. "That Auditore boy will love you and leave you, Leonardo. He is bad news – trust me."

Leonardo's head hits the wood with a resounding thud, somehow missing all of the costumes, and he lets out a long and tortured sigh that only someone with three years of theatre behind them could muster up on command.

"I don't know if I will even call him," he replies, sullen. "It seems like his list is all female."

Cristina frowns. "Well..."

She trails off when the back door opens, squeaking heavily to announce every entrance and exit.

The empty space at the end of the table is filled when Ugo suddenly appears, hands full of drink holders with paper coffee cups filling every spot, and sits them sort-of carefully next to the pile of costumes Leonardo will never, ever be done fixing.

"I would not say Ezio is straight," Cristina begins again, but is interrupted by Ugo.

"_Straight_?" he guffaws, wiping coffee from his chin. "Hardly. He'll fuck anything with a pulse."

There's a moment's pause, just long enough for Ugo's ears to tinge pink, then he's pulling his cap down further and looking back at the coffee as though it is the most interesting thing in the room.

"Not that I would know anyway. Just... I hear things," he clears his throat and looks only momentarily at Leonardo, like eye contact is too incriminating.

"Who would want to fuck Auditore?" Vieri says from behind them, _sneers_ from behind them, as he comes through the heavy curtain leading onstage as though he is talent on some Hollywood production instead of their last minute lead. "Imagine what you would catch."

Ugo doesn't look at him, but he does clear his throat again. "Didn't he turn you down?"

Vieri reddens, sputters, and looks as though he is seconds away from smoke pouring out of his ears. "As though I would ever!"

* * *

><p>Leonardo never gets a chance to call. He doesn't get home until very late that night and it seems rude to call when he knows for a fact the other man does attend classes, so he puts it off. He puts it off for two more days, gets wound up in not knowing what to think (and his curses his friends for this, but maybe they know better than he) and he gets caught up in his work on the play. He goes back and forth trying to decide whether or not to just take a chance, to just call the man and see what happens, but it ends up that, three days after meeting him, Ezio is suddenly pushed back into his life without his consent.<p>

"Our Don Jon has mono," Teadora says, when she leads Ezio into the auditorium and is met with Rosa balking openly, her mouth opening and closing like a particularly incredulous fish. "Meet your new, very short notice, stand-in bastard."

Vieri's left eye twitches disturbingly and he is mumbling over and over to himself, "I'm still the star. I'm still the star. I'm still the star."

"This is not happening," Rosa mutters, as though Teadora has suggested one of the folding chairs be their new actor, and she pushes past Leonardo to go back behind the curtain. "Fuck my life."

"This is Leonardo," Teadora says, as though she is immune to Rosa's discomfort, and she leads Ezio across the stage to where Leonardo's feet are still, for all intents and purposes, cemented to the floor. "He is our lead designer – he can get you all costumed up. Leonardo, meet Ezio."

It is mostly embarrassing that, when Ezio takes his hand and shakes it, eyes amused, that he definitely notices the phone number still on Leonardo's hand that he's been carefully washing around all week.

C'est la vie.


End file.
